Finding Peace
by crazytalkforlemons
Summary: Lucius is encased in the mind of Harry Potter, forced to watch his son die slowly. Draco is hearing a voice named Prongs who wants to help save him. Hermione is the catalyst who might be able to save Draco from death, so long as he is able to accept her.
1. Prologue

It was a cold black night in December. The wind was howling past, whispering death on the air. Trees bent impossibly in the wind, aching to snap but only just resisting. The cold bit like a snake, the snow drifts danced in the wind like ghosts, and Death Eaters stalked the night.

A crowd of fifteen Death Eaters crowded around a platform in the snow, cold but not shivering, scared but not cowering, proud but on their knees. They may be evil men but no one could say that they weren't strong, disciplined, and powerful. Not many men could kneel in front of the Dark Lord and return alive again and again. These men were Voldemort's favorite, they were the elite, and they were his chosen men. Except for one, and he was going to pay the price this night.

"Lucius," The Dark Lord's voice rose from the darkness like velvet evil.

"Yes, Master," Lucius croaked from his position on the platform, half naked and beaten brutally.

"I am not pleased." Four words that foreshadowed a fate worse than death.

The fourteen other Death Eaters stood immobile even though bile rose in their throats and their stomachs quaked. Lucius had been the favorite of the all, and to watch his downfall only reinforced that none of them were safe, however it may seem. Caught in a trap none of them could escape they chose to serve rather than to die. They murdered, raped and tortured for their lives and the lives of their families. Young and vain they made a decision that they can never take back. Ever. Their wives are toys for the Dark Lord, their children were slaves. Voldemort could do anything he wanted to anyone of them, and everything they owned.

Lucius held only three things dear in his whole existence; his family name that he wrapped around him like an impenetrable cloak, his power, and his son. And all three things were about to be stripped away from him. A moment of weakness was all it took for Lucius to go from the height of arrogance and ultimate power, to the lowest, practically a muggle. Every midwinter the Dark Lord demanded a sacrifice or gift from all of his Death Eaters. The highest of them always paid the highest price. So far Lucius had given up his wife, and many of his priceless family heirlooms. This year Voldemort had demanded the soul of his son. Lucius refused.

The process of extracting a soul was a lengthy and painful one, and what was left was an empty husk of what the person had been before. They still lived, but were only useful as slaves since they no longer contained the essence of a person. Voldemort then devoured the soul which added length to his life. Not to mention he gained the wizard's skills and power. A very powerful wizard, such as Draco, could add a century onto the life of Voldemort, and that's why he desired him.

The loss of Draco to Lucius would be too much to bear. He had raised him from a sickly infant into a force to be reckoned with. He honed his son into a powerful weapon, capable of using both dark and light magic far beyond his years. He had never intended for his son to become a Death Eater, and he trained his son in such a way that he would be able to resist. It was painful enough for Lucius to watch everything his family had owned for generations, and everything he built slowly melt away into the Dark Lord's hands. Draco had been his only hope, his only light for the future of the Malfoy line, and possibly the future of himself if he was able to become powerful enough to overtake the Dark Lord. If the Dark Lord took Draco's soul, it would be the end of the Malfoy line forever, the end of their legacy, a legacy that reached back further than written records. So he had to refuse the Dark Lord, and he knew it would cost him his life.

What he didn't know was that it was going to cost him everything else as well. Strong though his son may be, he was not invincible, and he was much weaker and less experienced than Voldemort. He wasn't as quick to pull out the unforgivables to subdue a threat, and that was how he got captured. Draco Malfoy lay hog tied at the Dark Lord's feet, fear and panic shining in his eyes.

Lucius watched helplessly as the Dark Lord took out a potion and splashed it all over Draco's face. The liquid was pitch black and when it touched Draco's skin it flashed red and then the light sunk into Draco's skin. Draco screamed out in agony and convulsed in his confines. It was the scream of ultimate abandon to the pain, it was the sound of someone losing their mind. A few short seconds that seemed like an eternity later the screaming stopped and Lucius felt relieved as his son turned to look at him sorrowfully, tears running from his eyes, but his mind was still there. His soul was not gone.

The Dark Lord laughed. "Oh Lucius, don't be relieved just yet. This is a lengthy process, his soul wont be mine until exactly three months. The potion is non-reversible, and as soon as the three months are up his soul will travel dutifully to me, and that will be that. Your line, and your son will be no more. There will be no heaven or hell for your boy Lucius, no afterlife or chance for rebirth. He will never know the mysteries of the universe. Such a shame."

Lucius stayed silent. It was all over anyways, why give the man any sort of satisfaction? He had lost everything, and there was nothing else he could do. He was numb to the world. He looked at his son and his heart broke, but there was nothing else he could do.

"Goyle, come here and untie the boy. You will return him to Malfoy Manor, and he will return to school. Why make him suffer in his last days of life? This is a gift to you Lucius, you were my best Death Eater after all. Your only fault was that you loved too much, a weakness that I will burn out of the rest of my Death Eaters, so they will not end up like you."

Goyle untied Draco Malfoy and apparated away with him, presumably to the manor. Lucius said a silent goodbye to his son, he was pleased that his son would live free of this nightmare for a while longer, and maybe they might even find a way for him to be free of his fate. He prayed that his son would have the foresight to talk to Albus Dumbledore before it was too late.

"Ah, but we're not done here yet Lucius," the Dark Lord smirked, "You do know that I am connected to our dear friend Harry Potter through his scar, do you not?"

"Yes, Master." Lucius monotoned but he was sure his confusion showed in his eyes. 'What did Harry Potter have to do with anything that was happening tonight?'

"Last year I discovered that I can send things down this link. Mostly small things like memories, and nightmares. Tonight I'm going to be trying to send something a little more substantial than that down the link. Think of it as a sort of, experiment. If you survive it, in three months I might even let you live. I'm sure you'll be free of any of your weaknesses by then. Can you guess what I have planned for you, Lucius?"

"No, Master." Blank eyes. Poker face. Inside he was terrified. What was going on?

"I'm going to be sending you." The Dark Lord smiled. The Death Eaters stirred in their places, a little perturbed.

"Sending me where?" Lucius's eyes widened at the implication, not believing it fully.

"You know where."

And then all went black.

What seemed like only a few seconds later Harry Potter awoke with a scream.


	2. Finding Luce

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: I was not pleased with my former chapter two: "Finding Harry." So I have changed it to "Finding Luce", and hopefully you might like it better. I figured I can get further with this chapter, then I could with Finding Harry.

----

Draco collapsed in the snow staring up at the sky. It had been five days since he had been dumped back at the Manor. He had spent the last week wandering around aimlessly, getting drunk, and destroying the Manor's priceless artifacts with impunity. He was going to die, and he was the last of the Malfoys, it wasn't like the manor, or its artifacts would be worth anything in the end. He'd rather they be destroyed than to have them being auctioned off to the highest bidder. Fearful house elves followed him and hastily tidied up the debris of the items as Draco took them out methodically. Eventually he tired of that since there were far too many heirlooms, and he just didn't have the time to destroy them one by one before he had to return to Hogwarts.

Draco sighed and stood up as it started to snow heavy flakes into his hair. He didn't know if he was even going to return to Hogwarts. What would be the point? He was already dead. As far as he knew there was no cure. Or at least that's what the Dark Lord had said. Then again he couldn't exactly _trust_ the Dark Lord, he had been raised being told that the Dark Lord dealt in lies, and that every scheme of his only held a sliver of truth. Perhaps he would return to Hogwarts and speak with Snape and Dumbledore. He didn't really know what else to do. It would probably take countless hours in order to find if there even _is_ a cure to the damn potion. Maybe he should leave immediately.

Yes, that was what he would do. He would immediately go to Hogwarts.

With that thought he headed towards the door to the Manor, and slipped and fell face down into the snow. 'Shit, still drunk.' Draco stood up again his face flushed and carefully, one foot in front of the other, made his way back to the house. Perhaps he'd take a few of his father's bottles of Fire whiskey with him. It's not like anyone else was going to drink it.

----

At Hogwarts Harry awoke to the familiar site of a white ceiling and groaned. 'In the Hospital Wing again. What in Merlin's name happened this time?' Sitting up he reached over to the familiar bedside table and put on his glasses. He was in the bed closest to the window, where he normally stayed in his visits to the infirmary, and he looked out to see the grounds coated in white snow, perhaps a foot higher than it was the last time he looked out, so either it had snowed quite a bit during the night, or he had been out of it for a while. It wasn't totally ridiculous to wake up to a foot of snow after only one night, but knowing Harry's luck this wasn't the case.

"Ah, Mister Potter! I see you're finally awake." Madame Pomfrey said as she walked towards him carrying a tray of food. '_Finally_ awake?' That didn't seem like a good sign to Harry.

"How long have I been out Madame Pomfrey?" Harry asked. He didn't ask _what_ happened, because if he was out long he didn't really want to know yet.

"Five days." She said as she set the tray down on Harry's lap and gestured to two potions on the corner of the tray. "Take this one before you eat your lunch, and take this one after."

Harry stared at the food with distaste. It looked like some kind of chowder and toast. Not something he really wanted to eat at the moment. He doubted Madame Pomfrey would take any pity on him though, so he took the first potion and picked up his spoon.

"What happened, Madame Pomfrey?" Harry asked as he picked up his toast with his other hand and dipped it into the chowder.

"You awoke around 3am five days ago screaming at the top of your lungs for about twenty seconds, and then you passed out. Mr. Weasley alerted us to your predicament and we brought you here. As to why this happened, I've seen it happen when wizards come into new powers. The increase in power to their magical cores is far too much for the body to handle and so the wizard will pass out for approximately five days for the body to adjust."

"And this is what happened to me? I've come into new magical powers?" Harry asked. He didn't know if he wanted new magical powers. He felt like he was strange enough and didn't need to have any more attention.

"Well, by examining your magical core we can't really see a noticeable difference in power. In fact the only change we have found is that your eye color has changed."

"My _what?!_" Harry pushed the tray aside and made his way to the bathroom. He hooked both eyes open with his fingers and peered into the looking glass. Yes. His eye color had changed to a dark shade of grey. Harry unhooked his eyes and he looked into the glass sorrowfully. From all the pictures he had ever seen of his parents he knew that the only physical characteristics he held of his mother's were her beautiful green eyes. And now he didn't even have those.

Understanding his disappointment Madame Pomfrey gave him a few minutes before ushering him back to his bed and to his lunch. Harry wasn't hungry any more and he just wanted to return to his room. Pomfrey was loathe to just let a patient go, but she couldn't find anything wrong with Harry so she sent him on his way with his promise that he'd eat well at dinner that night and he'd take his second potion on the way back to his common room.

Finally out of the hospital wing Harry ventured out onto the sunny but chilly Hogwarts grounds and sat dejectedly on a bench at the side of the lake. Sighing heavily he took the potion in one swig and then tossed the glass out into the lake, not really caring about the litter. What he heard next made him gasp out loud and fall backwards off the bench looking around frantically.

"_Why so glum, chum?_" A voice chuckled, seemingly amused at its own wittiness.

"What? Who's there?" Harry asked, pulling out his wand looking for the source of the voice.

"_My name's Luce," _The voice drawled, still amused.

"Where are you? Show yourself!" Harry said backing away from the bench and looking left and right.

"_Don't be silly, I'm not _here_ I'm in here!_" The voice said as Harry felt a tingle in his head behind his eyes. It tickled slightly and Harry rubbed his eyes behind his glasses.

"You're in my head!?" Harry's newly grey eyes widened in shock.

"_Indeed, although how I got here I have no idea. Last thing I remember I was… Actually I don't know what I remember!_" The voice stopped, now sounding worried.

'Wait, so if you're in my head, can you hear my thoughts?' Harry thought, questioning the voice.

"_Yes._" The voice didn't really seem so amused anymore.

'Well, can you access my memories, or anything like that? Do you know my feelings?'

"_Well, I can tell that you're worried that I _can_ access your memories, so you'll be glad to know that I can't. As to knowing your feelings, I can tell that now you _are_ glad that I can't access your memories. So the answer the second question in an affirmative._" The voice chuckled again, back to being amused.

'How did you get in there, and who are you?' Harry asked as he sat back down on the bench.

"_Couldn't tell you. One second I was somewhere, and now I'm here. As to who I am, my name is Luce as I've already told you._"

'Surely there is more to you than just being Luce. Are you human? Are you dead? Are you some kind of magical creature?'

Luce seemed to think about this for a bit, "_Dear lord, I hope I'm not dead… I guess I can't be sure though. How else would I be here? If I weren't dead I assume that I would be in my own body. Which leads me to believe that I _am _dead. Which is very troubling, especially considering that I have something very important to attend to!_" Luce seemed to be very troubled at these thoughts.

'Important business?'

"_Yes, but for the life of me I can't remember what it is! All I know is that it is _very_ important. A life and death situation!_"

'Are you sure this important business isn't about _your_ life and death situation? Because then I think it might be a bit too late for you.'

"_No. It isn't about me. I know that for sure. It's about someone else. Someone very important to me._"

'Listen, if it's so important, maybe we should go see Dumbledore. Maybe he can give us some insight into who you are, and what you're doing in my head.' Harry started heading back towards Hogwarts and Dumbledore's office.

"_Yes, I can tell that you're troubled that I'm in here. I'm troubled as well… but what is a Dumbledore?_"

'Uhh… Dumbledore? The Headmaster of Hogwarts? Where are you _from_? Surely you would know about Dumbledore if you were from somewhere around here. Are you a wizard?'

"_A wizard?_" Luce sounded very amused now.

'Yeah, a wizard. A magical human, not a muggle.' Now Harry was annoyed. Surely Luce _had_ to be a wizard, or else how would he be in his head? He didn't think it was possible for a muggle to be transported into his thoughts. But then, why shouldn't a muggle's spirit be here if a wizard's could be here? Now Harry was just confused again. 'Did you say if you were human or not?'

"_Yes I'm human, how else would I be talking to you?_" Luce said exasperated. Harry could almost feel that Luce was rolling his eyes. Well, if a disembodied spirit that happened to be in Harry's head had eyes.

'As far as I have seen, most humans have bodies. And you're borrowing mine right now, so that strikes you off the human list.' Harry thought, mentally glaring at Luce's image in his head. Harry was imagining Luce as a Harry look alike but with blonde hair instead of black, as Luce seemed to be just as annoying as a certain young Malfoy he knew.

Luce just chuckled.

Harry reached the gargoyle and found that the way up to the Headmaster's office was already opened. So he stepped onto the stairs and made his way up. Harry reached the top and looked into the Headmaster's open office door to see a more pale than usual Draco Malfoy sitting next to an equally pale looking Severus Snape.

"_They look troubled._" Luce observed.

'Suits them right' Harry grumped.

"Oh Harry! You're awake! Marvelous. What can I do for you?" The Headmaster Dumbledore said looking up from his conversation with Malfoy and Snape, his eyes twinkling as he looked at Harry.

"Do you have a few minutes Professor? I'd like to speak with you alone." Harry said.

"Certainly Harry, we were actually just finishing up here." Dumbledore turned back to look at Malfoy, his twinkling eyes turning sorrowful. "I'm sorry Mr. Malfoy, there is nothing that I can think of to do just yet. But you have my word that all the Professors here will do our best to find a way to help you."

Malfoy just nodded numbly and made his way out of the office with Professor Snape's hand on his shoulder. Neither of them even stopped to snarl or to give Harry a dirty look, which made Harry think that their problems must be more troubling than he thought. Still it really had nothing to do with him. And he already had problems of his own.

"_I wouldn't call myself a problem,_" Luce sniffed disdainfully.

'Yeah well you don't have some random disembodied spirit in _your_ head now do you?' Harry scowled.

"Harry, if you would like to come in?" Dumbledore waved him inside and gestured him towards a seat. Two teacups filled with what smelled like Earl Grey tea appeared in front of them both, and an assortment of sweets, and pastries appeared between them as well. "So, what can I do for you? I assume the lovely Madame Pomfrey filled you in with our theories about your bout of unconsciousness, and that we really think it's nothing to worry about?"

"Yes, well… I actually do have something to worry about. It seems that I have a disembodied spirit inside my head." Harry said, pointing to his head. Harry could tell that he sounded rather stupid, not to mention insane. But that was really the only way to put it. "His name is Luce." Harry added lamely.

Dumbledore looked at him blankly and then reached for a lemon drop. Dumbledore put it in his mouth and then scrutinized Harry for a few minutes before saying, "Harry, are you sure you've been getting enough sleep lately?"

Luce snorted.

"Professor, I've been unconscious for five days! I don't know what you would consider enough sleep but I would think that that would cover it wouldn't it?" Now Harry was just annoyed. Surely the Headmaster could tell that he was not at all kidding.

"Quite right, quite right. Well I assume then that this Luce is the reason that you have been unconscious. It seems to me that if _I_ had a disembodied spirit barge into _my_ head that my mind would be rather shocked, and would shut down in order to accommodate… said voice."

"_That actually sounds rather reasonable._"

"Well? How do you think I should deal with this? Surely there is a way to get Luce out of my head and back to wherever he came from!"

"Did this Luce mention anything to you other than his name? Perhaps where he's from, and why he's here?"

"All he said is that his name is Luce. He's… human. He said he was doing something that he can't really remember, and that he somehow turned up in his head. He also said that he has some very important business to attend to, and that he hoped he wasn't dead because it was a life and death situation for someone else. He didn't know who you were, and he was amused when I mentioned wizards." Harry explained. Or at least tried to.

"_Good enough_," Luce assured him.

Dumbledore sighed and rubbed his temples. "Harry I don't want you to panic after this question, but… Luce doesn't happen to be short for Lucius, now does it?" He looked at Harry enquiringly.

Harry's eyes widened in alarm. 'Luce?'

"_Lucius? Hmmm… Looooooshous. Yes. Lucius sounds about right._" Luce said, his voice brightening.

Harry's jaw dropped.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "Well, it seems we know what happened to Lucius Malfoy then." Dumbledore tossed back his tea and then poured some more for himself.

"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked, his voice lowered dangerously. Images of Lucius flashed through his mind, and memories of him came up unbidden.

"_Ugh! That can't be me. That guy is a pompous arse!_" Luce said sounding absolutely appalled.

'I thought you couldn't see my memories!' Harry thought indignantly.

"_I can't unless you bring them up and think about them _obviously" Luce drawled the last word.

The drawling is what concluded it for Harry. He had Lucius Malfoy in his head. Harry groaned and banged his head against the desk in front of him.

"Five days ago Lucius Malfoy was tortured and supposedly killed by the Death Eaters. Professor Snape, was not present at that meeting so we couldn't actually be sure. It seems it may be true since Lucius appears to be inside your head right now. But what you must understand Harry is that Lucius Malfoy had not always been as he seems. Lucius Malfoy had been disowned soon after his birth by his father since it is tradition for there to be only one Malfoy heir in the Malfoy family. Young Lucius was sent away to be raised by his uncle Aurelius Malfoy, who happened to be a squib and lived in the muggle world. Lucius never came in contact with the wizarding world. Several years later when Lucius was fifteen, his brother Annaeus Malfoy was killed by a Dark Arts experiment gone awry. His father Abraxas Malfoy immediately brought Lucius back to the wizarding world, and in a mere two years moulded him into the man you remember. How he did it, we're not sure. But he managed to turn Lucius against muggles, and created him into a formidable, power hungry wizard, a practitioner of the dark arts, and a follower of the Voldemort who back then wasn't Voldemort, just an ambitious young man name Tom Riddle who made… powerful friends."

"_What a load of codswollop! Aurelius I am beginning to remember but he wasn't my uncle, he was my father! Abraxas, Annaeus, I have never heard of these names. This Dumbledore is mad._" Luce informed Harry.

"Headmaster, Luce says that Aurelius was his father, not his uncle, and he's never heard of Abraxas _or_ Annaeus." Harry was absolutely confused. He was worried about having Lucius in his head, but he was glad that he didn't have an evil Lucius in his head.

"Perhaps that was what Lucius was raised to believe. Maybe when his father brought him back from the muggle world he performed a series of memory charms to change his memories. You may have a pre-Abraxas Lucius residing in your head. But how did he manage to get there?" Dumbledore took a raspberry pastry and was chewing on it thoughtfully.

"You said that Lucius was killed by Voldemort five days ago, but you're not sure. I passed out five days ago. Which means that it makes sense for it to be Lucius. Yet as far as I know, when someone dies they die. Or they become a ghost. So what purpose would Lucius have to come into my head, and is it even possible? You said I awoke screaming, well the only time that happens is when I have a nightmare from my scar, or Voldemort is feeling particularly emotional about something." Now Harry was chewing on a lemon tart thoughtfully. He felt that they were getting to the bottom of this mystery.

"_What I wouldn't give to be able to eat one of those lemon tarts myself._" Luce said sadly. "_Lemon tarts are my absolute favorite, along with lemon meringue pie._"

"That must be it Harry. Your scar. You said that Voldemort sends you nightmares and visions through the connection of your scar. Perhaps this time he attempted to send something a little more substantial down your connection. Lucius Malfoy. Except for the trip down the connection must have stripped Lucius of his memories up to when the first memory charms must have been put on him. Lucius Malfoy's soul must have been stripped clean, rendering anything after his mind had been fiddled with as artificial and therefore discarded. You have fifteen year-old Lucius in your head. And I assume that since he's not, as you said a ghost, or disappeared to the after-life, somewhere Lucius must be alive." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling as he came to a conclusion.

"_Yay I'm alive! That's a relief. As for this evil Lucius business, good riddance. He seemed like a nasty fellow anyways. Now all we have to do is find my body!_" Luce was saying happily.

'Luce, your body must be with Voldemort. Who is the darkest wizard alive. I don't even know how we're going to even get within 20 miles of your body, much less take it back into our possession so that we can return you to it!' Harry thought to Luce, with a clearly dismayed look on his face.

"_Don't worry! We can do it!_" Luce said brightly.

"Now that's just being ridiculously optimistic." Harry said sternly, not noticing he said it aloud. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at Harry. Harry just rolled his eyes and pointed at his forehead. "Luce seems to think that we can just walk up to Voldemort and ask for his body back."

"Ah, yes. Well we obviously can't do that. Sorry Luce. And as of right now we do have a life or death problem on our hands that we must deal with first. Possibly the very life and death business that Luce himself is worrying about." Dumbledore's face became serious and somewhat somber.

"Headmaster?" Harry looked at Dumbledore, feeling his stomach clench at the thought of what could make the Headmaster look so serious.

"Draco Malfoy is in trouble."

"_Who's Draco?_"

'Your son.'

"…_oh."_

----


	3. Finding Heaven and Finding Hell

A/N: Drinking and drunken teenage angst ahead. ALSO IMPORTANT: I changed the last chapter :P I didn't know where to go from there with it. But this time I do have a direction (of sorts), so go back and read chapter 2.

Draco sat on his bed staring ahead of him as if in a trance. He was in a trance, if you could call it that. At that moment he was debating whether he'd grab his fire whiskey bottle and have a few shots before he wandered around the school wallowing in is own self-pity or not. His father cautioned him against alcohol, and Draco had listened for the most part. He had never gotten drunk, he had never blacked out, he was practically innocent when it came to the other students. You wouldn't have really thought it, but Draco thus far had lived a sheltered life. Sure his father had worked with him on his power, testing him in the Dark Arts, and the Light Arts, and sometimes even the Muggle Arts if it would really benefit him, but he had never really known tragedy. He understood that his father went through a lot as he served the Dark Lord, but both he and his father had been resigned to the fact that this would never change. Not until Potter was ready. It was too bad it was already too late for him to save Draco.

Except Draco wasn't going to think about getting saved anymore. It was just too useless. And he didn't think he could deal with his soul-aching even more. So it was with that thought that Draco stood up and took the fire whiskey off the trunk that sat at the end of his bed. He didn't even bother with finding something to mix it with. All he wanted was that burn, because after the burn came the ice, and after the ice came forgetfulness, and then after he forgot a bit he would drink a little more and not feel at all. And maybe it was self-destructive, but that's what Draco wanted. It was that or… he didn't even know. It would probably be something like turning to Harry Potter's side to do something 'meaningful' with the last of his days… Draco shuddered and took a swig of the fire whiskey, grimacing as a trail of fire went down his throat all the way to his stomach, hitting it with an uncomfortable thunk before it felt like it was freezing his inside, and he exhaled, blowing cold air out of his mouth like if he were outside in the snow, blowing winter out of his mouth. That was the only reason he liked the nasty stuff. He could deal with the fire, it was blowing the cold out of his body that he liked. It felt like he was exhaling meaning. A winter's sigh. Breathing a haiku like the one he heard once:

_first snow --  
begins in the darkness  
ends in the darkness_

Not that he really knew what a haiku was, but it didn't matter, because those few words held so much meaning. And with his fire whiskey bottle he could exhale his own snow. Sure it sounded ridiculous, but right now it was possibly the only thing keeping him sane. Well, sane might not have been the word. It was keeping him drunk. Yes drunk was really the only word for it.

Draco wanted to stay as drunk as possible, because who knew how long it would be until someone came down and found him, drinking his last days on earth away. But who would come? Draco laughed bitterly. It wasn't as if he had any true friends, and his own Godfather, Snape didn't really know what it meant to be a Godfather. Not that Draco did either, but he figured that it wasn't making him stand around making boring meaningless potions while his Godfather worked on his theoretical potions. Although at least he was working on theoretical Draco stuff right now. And for that Draco was glad. He wouldn't want to leave this earth without knowing someone out there was fighting to save him. Even if he himself wasn't.

Draco sighed. How depressing. He needed something else to do before he started writing stupid poetry and wearing black all the time. Well, except for he already wore black all the time, it wasn't his fault he looked stunning in anything that contrasted with his pale skin. The girls flocked to him, he just wished that his looks would bring him friends, rather than meaningless make-out sessions in the Astronomy Tower that he didn't even enjoy. He just thought that that's what young handsome men like him should be doing. But then what did he know? It's not like he had any sort of older brother, or friend to look up to so he knew what he'd be doing. As far as he saw he was probably the only person in the whole damn school getting any action, and he didn't even _enjoy_ it.

Draco really wished he had a friend. He didn't want to go through his last days alone. And he didn't just want any friend. He wanted a best friend. The kind where you don't have any awkward moments, and you never stopped to wonder what they might say after you told them something important, you just knew that they would have something good to say. The kind of friend who was closer to you than your own family, the ones who knew their way around your kitchen and vice versa since you're hardly ever apart (not that Draco even knew his way around his _own_ kitchen, but that really wasn't the point.) He wanted the kind of friend who would skip school for you just because you're sick and you'd be _deadly bored_ without them. That's what he wanted for his last few days on Earth.

And the sad thing was that he knew he'd never get it. Draco choked back a sob and collapsed against the wall, his heart-breaking, which quite possibly hurt more than the feeling of his soul-breaking. The tears ran silently down his face as he stared up at the ceiling. It was too late for best friends. Draco threw back the fire whiskey and took a huge gulp. Then he exhaled winter as if he were trying to freeze the whole hall, and each little bit of air that he expelled from his lungs held a tiny shard of his heart as Draco let go. Slowly but surely, preparing himself for oblivion.

Draco didn't know how long he sat there for, but his back was starting to cramp and he was beginning to feel the tiniest bit more sober. He didn't want that to last long, he'd have to go back to his room to get some more Fire Whiskey. Mumbling as he got to his feet he noticed some movement from around the corner. Not really wanting to know what was going on, but too drunk to care about what he really wanted to do, he decided to follow the spontaneity of being drunk and he peered around the corner none too stealthily.

It appeared to be Potter, mumbling to himself about who knows what. Draco didn't know what Harry was thinking going around mumbling. It wasn't like he had some excuse, like being mindblowingly-but-on-the-recovery-to-being-sober drunk like Draco was. Draco barely even cared, but he found himself following Potter anyways. He wasn't even bothering to be stealthy about it. How Potter didn't hear him was beyond him.

Potter stopped and looked around, Draco dived around a corner before he was seen. Seeker instincts were nothing to laugh at, even while being severely drunk. Peeking back around he saw Potter pacing three times, thinking hard, and then a door appeared and he went in. Draco knew that the castle had some odd quirks, doors that appeared out of nowhere was a common sight, but being able to make a door appear out of nowhere is something altogether different. It takes passwords, and secret spells to be able to do that, and while Draco knew there was a way out of the school through the hump of an old witch, he didn't know the password, and he had never caught anyone going through it. But it seemed like this secret door, all you had to do was pace three times on the opposite side of that tapestry, while… appearing to think really hard, or actually thinking really hard about something, and you were in. Draco wondered where it led. He'd just have to wait until Potter had gone.

It didn't take long. Soon Potter was off again walking away from him and the secret door and Draco crept up to the tapestry. Before he started he'd have to think of something to think about. Unfortunately the thought of thinking something just drove thoughts out of his mind and he fiddled around in his thoughts trying to grasp something solid, but eventually he gave up. He'd just think about whatever came to mind. And so he approached the opposite wall, paced three times, and a door appeared. Stealthily he looked around, took the handle and opened the door.

Inside was heaven.

--------

Hermione had fallen in love at a young age. She was not surprised at all about falling in love with him, nor would anyone else be surprised. Only the boy in question would be surprised, but that was his nature. Ron could just be so amusingly dim witted sometimes. Everyone could tell how Ron felt about Hermione, and everyone could tell how Hermione felt about Ron (except Ron), and they all hoped that soon Ron would get his act together and just go for it.

Well he went for it alright, but not in any way a young girl hoped for or dreamed for.

It happened on the night after Christmas. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had retired for the night and left the young Weasley clan, plus Hermione downstairs in the sitting room drinking eggnog. Hermione hadn't noticed and everyone else was turning a blind eye as Fred and George spiked the drinks with their very own invention, tasteless Vodka. As eggnog is Hermione's favourite she drank quite a bit, and didn't even notice any effects of the Vodka until the clock struck midnight. Suddenly it was as if being caught in the fog and everything went hazy, she could barely remember what had happened at all, except for glimpses. She had thought a pillow was a book and she was trying to open it, but it wouldn't work. She was clutching a wicker basket claiming that she wasn't going to be sick, but 'just in case!' Then she was spilling eggnog all over the floor. But more time than that had passed, and Hermione didn't remember any of that until the next morning.

What she does remember is when she came out of the fog and she found herself sitting with Ginny in the bathroom, face laid on the toilet seat, hand in the bowl feeling the cold water whirl around as she flushed it over and over again. Ginny was crying, as was Hermione. She heard herself saying, 'why don't you like me Ginny? What did I do? What did I ever do?' Ginny was replying, 'Hermione! I DO like you! Please you must believe me! I'm sorry if I ever made you feel that I didn't like you!' In the morning Hermione felt humiliated that she'd said such a thing to Ginny. Of course Ginny liked her, they just haven't been close, ever. Ginny truly felt like she'd wronged Hermione, and swore that they'd spend more time together. Hermione had nodded, ashamed. But that was in the morning, the night still hadn't ended.

Ginny and Hermione had crept out of the bathroom and into the living room giggling like mad when they saw Ron asleep on the floor. Hermione had wanted a picture so she grabbed the camera and took a shot. Immediately developing she saw that Ron in the picture was grinning and peeking his eyes open, and then closing them again while sniggering. Hermione kicked Ron who started laughing and stood up. Fog. Now Hermione was in her night gown laughing with Ginny and Ron while they laid on the floor under the same blanket. Ginny was on the left side, Ron was in the middle (on the crack between the two bed mats they pushed together), with Hermione on Ron's other side. She can't remember what they were laughing about, but she can remember trying to fight to keep herself awake, but it was a losing battle, and she was forced to say goodnight before slipping peacefully into oblivion.

It was sometime later that night, she was on the edge between awake and dreaming and she turned towards the middle of the bed. A soft body was there, not really thinking about what she was doing she slipped her knee between the other body's knees and snuggled up close before promptly falling back into the fog.

Fog is lifting, something is happening. She finds it curious that her nipple doesn't hurt when pinched like that. Yeah, why doesn't her nipple hurt? Wait, her nipple? Why is she thinking of her nipple? She struggles to grasp at more thoughts. Fog lifts some more. A hand is running down her body, past her stomach, into her pants, massaging. Somehow she knows that his hand is returning there, that this has been going on for some time. She is moving against him, making soft sounds against his neck. She wants to find him with her mouth but she can't. Who? Ron. Fog lifts. Ginny is here, she thinks. Ginny is here? This panics her. She's starting to come back, and she starts to willingly think to herself, 'push him away and turn over, push him away and turn over…' she chants this to herself willing her body to obey. It isn't. She keeps chanting. Fog returns. But only for a few minutes, and Hermione wakes up completely. A comforting hand is on her thigh, and she is turned in the other direction. Ginny, she can tell it is Ginny's hand.

'It must've worked', she thought to herself. She had pushed him away and rolled over. And then somehow Ginny had traded spots with her. This comforted her. She turns her mind back to what was happening, thinking about it she thinks to herself, 'Well… he wasn't too good at what he was doing, was he?' She starts to giggle. Giggling turns into laughter, and although she is stifling the sound her body is shaking. And then suddenly her brain clears and she has fully realized what's happened. She starts to cry.

"What's wrong?" Ginny whispers in the dark. How does she not know? Hermione gets up and goes to the kitchen. Turning on the light she pours herself a glass of water and sits down. Ginny has followed her and done the same.

They hear a door close in the back room. Hermione can see out the back door from her spot at the table and she sees Ron jump on his broom and fly away. "Wait, how much has he had to drink?" Hermione asks, alarmed.

"Don't worry Hermione, he does this all the time!" Ginny said.

"Oh this is all my fault," Hermione groans into her hands, "If he dies, it'll be all my fault."

"Why, what?" Ginny asks, looking at her with confusion on her face. It becomes increasingly clear that Ginny has no idea what had just went on. Hermione decides not to tell her.

"Nothing," Hermione said, getting up from the table. "Let's just go back to bed." They both return to their bed on the floor, and fall back to sleep.

In the morning at breakfast Ginny and the rest of the young Weasley's are sporting hangovers. Hermione was not, the Weasley's were jealous; Hermione told them that her parents never suffered from hangovers either. Ron did not return to them during the night, and Fred said that he had heard him go into his room sometime around 5am. He did not come down for breakfast. The young Weasley's joke about all the silly things Hermione did, and as they tell the stories she remembers some of them. Most of it was fog though. She wished that all of it had been fog.

Soon after breakfast, and Mrs. Weasley had decided to get Ron out of bed, Hermione asked Mr. Weasley if it'd be alright if she went home now. She had quite a bit of work to finish (a lie, she had finished her work already) and she wished to visit her family before her return to school. Mr. Weasley said alright, handed her some floo powder, and hugged her goodbye. Deciding to skip a Weasley clan send-off, she gathers her stuff, throws her floo powder into the fire, yells goodbye, and vanishes back home, her last sight of the Weasley household was Ginny running to the fireplace mouthing what looked like 'Hermione, where are you going?'

Now the holidays are over and for the first time ever Hemione doesn't want to return to Hogwarts. She doesn't want to see Ron, she doesn't want to see Harry. She is deeply ashamed, and every time she thinks back on that night she cringes and pushes away the thoughts, but they just keep coming back. Hermione can never see herself getting intimate with a boy again. The thought makes her sick.

"It's time to go Hermione!" Her mother calls from the other room.

Hermione gathers her courage, shrugs into her jacket and makes her way to the car. She would survive this. There was no other choice.

So back to Hogwarts it was. A new semester begins.

-----

A/N: So that's that. The Haiku of Draco's is a Haiku by Nozawa Setsuko (1920-1995). These stories are based on my stories, except for I don't have a floo, and I can't access the room of requirement. Also I didn't roam the school drunk and self-pitying. I decided to drink in the shower :P. The whole voice in head, and Draco dying bit is not part of my own personal story, so I am not suicidal or a maniac. Don't worry!


	4. Finding Prongs

'Heaven sure looks fuzzy', Draco thought to himself as he looked around the room. He wasn't foolish, it must be an illusion of some kind because obviously heaven wasn't a room at Hogwarts. 'Although it would be pretty hilarious if it was', Draco giggled. Damn he was closer to sober. When Draco drank he went in stages, he started at sober, he turned to fuzzy, which was a content happy feeling, then he descended to tipsy, and weirdly his vision would clear, but everything he saw would be hilarious and he'd be a giggling mess. Then in the mid-point between drunk and tipsy he became very uncoordinated, tripping over nothing, hitting himself in the face with his flailing limbs and so forth. Finally he became startlingly sober. Sober to the realities of life, not to the alcohol, and his thoughts would turn dark, he'd sink into a depression, and if he'd been a girl he would've had the weepies. And then as he began to sober up he went back the way he came, through the various stages in reverse, clumsiness, giddiness, and then fuzziness.

At the moment he was in the giddiness stage, because while the room was fuzzy, he was clear that it was the only fuzzy thing, and he had not become quite that sober yet.

He looked around a bit more. There really wasn't much too see; just white light and fuzziness, like drifting among the clouds. Not all that interesting, and he had no idea why Potter had come to this room when there was nothing in it. He shrugged, he wasn't really in the mood to ponder Potter's antics, and what he really wanted to do was to get back to the last stage of drunkenness and wallow in self-pity for a few more hours. For that he would need Fire Whiskey, so he turned to leave and return to his rooms, only to find that the door had disappeared. Draco giggled, even though he knew that nothing about this was funny. He was stuck in ridiculous land. Except it wasn't a land, it was a room. The Ridiculous Room. The Room of Ridiculousness. Yeah Draco liked that one.

"While ridiculous things have happened in this room throughout the history of Hogwarts, this room is actually named the Room of Requirement." A voice echoed all around him, surprising him and making him fall on his ass. That wasn't funny, but Draco laughed anyways.

"Yes, we'll get nothing done if you insist on being so… giggly. Sober up now." The voice commanded.

Well it wasn't that easy, thought Draco as he scowled. If he could sober up upon anyone's command he would have gotten drunk more often. Well probably not, but… strange, he didn't feel drunk anymore. He was sober. Wow he'd have to get drunk and come here more often! Maybe that's what Potter had been doing, wandering around mumbling to himself drunk, and then he came here to become sober!

"No, this is the Room of Requirement, and he does not require what you do. Actually to be honest this land isn't really part of the Room of Requirement in the first place, but I had to speak to you, and the magic in this room allows me to connect your dimension to mine." This time the voice was behind Draco and he turned around to see a fuzzy man shaped haze.

"Hello Draco, I'm Prongs."

Silence.

Then Draco snorted. "A ridiculous name for the Room of Ridiculousness." Draco sneered as he walked around the hazy figure.

"It's a nickname. No parent in their right mind would name their child Prongs or anything equally ridiculous" The haze said matter-of-factly.

"Well I don't know about that, what of Dumbledore? Dumbledore is a ridiculous name," Draco took a seat next to Prongs, and Prongs sat down next to him. Weirdly the fuzzy cloud stuff wasn't actually all that soft to sit upon.

"Dumbledore is a last name," Prongs drawled, "Albus is his real name."

"My point stands."

Prongs snorted. "Alright, you have a point. Albus' parents weren't being too kind when the thought up that one."

"Dedalus."

"Point."

"Pansy."

"Pansy is a legit name!" Prongs protested.

"It's a flower." Draco drawled out disdainfully.

"Alright, point. But come on, 'Draco'? What kind of name is that?"

Draco turned to glare at the haze, attempting to stare it down. However since he couldn't see Prongs' eyes it was a fruitless exercise. Draco sighed heavily, "Point." Truthfully he didn't know what his parents were thinking, but the girls seemed to like it at least.

"It seems we are way off topic," Prongs sighed.

"We had a topic?"

"Well we were going to until you got us off on this inane tangent. So may I get to it?"

"By all means."

"Currently you are dying. Well, not exactly dying, but soon you will die. No, not even die… it's more like..."

"Eloquent," Draco sneered. Prongs turned towards him and was silent. "Are you glaring at me? You do know you're a featureless haze right?"

Prongs sighed, "I think this is going to be a long conversation. Where should we start?"

"How about we start with where we are right now." Draco said as he leaned back to lay on the ground.

"Alright, at this moment we are in the Room of Requirement. Well sort of. This is the Room of Requirement, but at the same time we are suspended between two completely different dimensions. The magic of the room and some magic that we have worked over on this side allows for us to speak to each other. Of course it's not a completely balanced connection. We are physically in your dimension, but what you see is of mine. Except for the whole haziness thing. I assume that's just a lack of connection on your part, or maybe this is what those of my dimension look like to those of yours. You are, to me, completely solid."

"Whereas you, and your world are completely hazy to me." Draco nodded, it seemed to make sense. It probably shouldn't have made sense considering he was talking to a being of another dimension, but funnily enough it did. Sort of. "You said that you worked magic to be able to come here, why did you do that?"

"Your dimension, and my dimension are linked. Here in the Room of Requirement is a temporary link, one created so that I may talk to you, but the very nature of both our dimensions is connectedness. I used to be a member of your dimension, in fact most if not all of those in this dimension were members of your dimension."

"Were? What do you mean?" Draco asked, even though he had a sneaking suspicion about what Prongs was talking about.

"Yes, we're those that have passed on. Died, gone to heaven, fallen through the veil and whatnot."

"So what you're saying is that you are talking to me from the afterlife. Is… is my father there?" Draco asked tentatively, "can anyone speak from the afterlife?"

"Your father is not here. And no, I have special permission to speak with you. Generally communication between dimensions is one way. Those of yours speak to those of ours, and rarely are we allowed to reply. Nor do many of us want to reply. Sometimes when you come here you move on and forget about those left behind, and sometimes you remain attached."

"What do you mean 'move on'?"

"This is where you come when you 'die', it is a place of contemplation. From this point you can move forward, or you can move back. Or you can stay exactly where you are. It depends on what you want to do."

"Yes but what exactly do you mean 'move on'? The afterlife is not the end? There's more?"

"Ah, one of the mysteries of life. You know through educated guess that there is an afterlife, ghosts exists, messages from the afterlife are sent, 'angels' have appeared and devils. Yes you know there is something after. But while living in your dimension you know that your death is not the endpoint, but maybe the next one is. What is life, after your life? For many of those in your dimension death for them does not lead them here. One of three things can happen, but the most common one is reincarnation. You haven't learnt all the lessons you need to learn to come here, so automatically you are put back into the recycling and brought back in for another round. So many of you are caught there, stuck."

"So we live more than one life then."

"Oh yes thousands and thousands of lives. As different people, as different species, on different planets. So many lives are needed to learn everything that you can learn from there. And then there comes a certain point where there are no more lessons to learn, and your soul knows that there are no more lessons to learn. You were in a field and you covered every inch of it learning everything, and nothing more to discover. But that doesn't make sense, knowledge doesn't stop, you don't stop, everything is infinite. And it's at that point that you know there is more. In the very fiber of your being you know that life doesn't stop there, and it doesn't stop at death. There is a road to follow, more land to cover, and to think that before this revelation you didn't even know there was a road!"

"As insightful as this all is, why have you come to speak to me? I'm going to die, and so what you're trying to tell me that I'm going to move on? Or be recycled? Have you come to reassure me or something?"

"Unfortunately Draco, you fall into the third category of what happens when you die. The third option is sometimes known, in your dimension, as hell. A place of unending pain and suffering, the place of the sinners and condemned. However that's just the myth. Many of your religions would send the Buddhists to hell because they do not believe in their God, or they would have those of magic abilities sent there because they are unnatural, or so they think. But really it's because in the early beginnings of their religion, and even now, people have caught glimpses of this alternate dimension, of this 'hell', and what they see when they look in there is the sufferings of criminals, and magical beings, and innocents. They see the suffering and they named it hell, and they decided that anyone who gets sent there must have deserved it, there were criminals there, were there not? So magical beings were condemned. The only thing that didn't make sense were the innocents, so they made up other sins, and those that committed those were 'sent to hell'. But that was only because they didn't have a reasonable explanation for their being there. But you don't get sent to hell for sinning, you don't even actually get sent to hell. It's just an unfortunate circumstance. Just like yours Draco."

"What do you mean? Why are you telling me that I'm going to be sent to eternity in pain and suffering!" Draco screamed enraged and frightened, getting up off the ground and hovering angrily over Prongs.

"Just sit down Draco, I'm trying to get to it. Sit down… good, try to stay calm while I finish this conversation. Ok. Those who get sent to hell are sent there deliberately by wizards, by accident, or by pure sadness and suffering. The reason there are so many magical beings in hell is because back in times where those of magical powers weren't interbred with humans, it was mostly magic that sustained them. Flesh and blood they may have had, but a lot of their composition was magic, and a being of pure magic, or mostly magic can fade if it loses the willingness to live. And willingness is what's needed to move on or come back. Suicidal humans, for the most part, when they kill themselves they still have the willingness to keep going. So where do they go when they don't have the will to keep going? They find themselves in that other dimension, the hell. They were the first inhabitants of hell, and their thoughts, and magic, gone haywire with grief and anger and sadness created the unending pain and suffering of that dimension.

Secondly the reason you see criminals there is because of one being who has the power to send anyone to that dimension. And that being is a dementor. They kiss out your soul, and suck it into hell. Dementors were born out of hell, the magic gone wrong created them and sent them here to torment others who were still alive, and bring more to their dimension. The criminals are from the jailhouses. From Azkaban and other prisons. You see human criminals in there because unbeknownst to humans, the ministries of magic send dementors into their prisons to get certain criminals who are deemed much too evil to stay alive. They don't know they're sending them to hell, and I doubt that they'd care, but the humans don't notice because once the criminal's soul is gone, they're not dead, they're just… an empty shell. They assume they've gone mad.

And then thirdly, the innocents are there only because they've run across the rogue dementor, or they've run across nasty spells, like that of the Lord Voldemort. You are once again of the third category.

But your case, and ones like it are special. You have a chance to make it."

"So you're saying I have a chance now?"

"…Uhh yes, I do believe that that's exactly what I just said."

"YES! I'm going to live!" Draco yelled as he sprung to his feet and started doing a mini-celebration dance that involved a lot of hip thrusting and pointing in the air.

"Yeah, please don't hurt yourself. And I'm sorry to say this, but your chances are very, very slim." Prongs informed Draco who hadn't stopped dancing yet.

"How slim are we talking here?" Draco asked with just a little hip shake.

"Well considering how all the inhabitants in hell are… quite numerous, and how only one man has made it throughout the history of hell, I'd say that your chances are close to zero."

Draco stopped dancing

"You made me get sober for _that_? Do you at least know how that one man did it?! Or are you just absolutely fucking useless?!" Draco screamed furiously into Prong's face.

"I'm sorry Draco, I'm just trying to explain things. But the fact remains that if one man could do it you can too. However I doubt we can follow his exact method as your cases while somewhat similar are actually hugely different. Tell me Draco, do you believe in God?"

"I can believe in God if that'll save me."

"Yeah, that won't work. Nor would it have worked if you did believe in God. The other man's circumstances were extraordinary. You see, the other man was Jesus of Nazareth."

"Well fuck." Draco said his face crumpled in despair as he collapsed back onto the ground.

"Indeed. But the point remains, if one man could do it, you can too. We'll just need to figure out how."

"Do we have a contingency plan?" Draco asked, lifting his head to look at Prongs.

"Uhhh, have a rockin' good time before you die?"

"Well I suppose that's something."

"Indeed, but first we have more to discuss. Like how Jesus had managed to go to and escape hell and the Universe in general."

"Why the universe?"

"Because the very nature of the universe holds hope for you. In a very long-term sort of way."

As much as Draco wanted to live, all of that sounded just a bit boring. "Do we have to discuss this now? I have a hot date planned."

"Getting trashed on fire whiskey isn't a date." Prongs said sternly.

"Ugh! Fine, the short version."

"Right we'll start with Jesus. Theory number one, a dark wizard came upon Jesus in the desert and placed a spell on him, sort of the same thirty day spell that you have on you. Jesus knew his time was coming, according to the prophecies about him, and he believed in the whole 'he will rise on the third day' bit that he willed himself out of hell. Potentially usable, the whole 'willing oneself out of hell' thing. Theory number two, Jesus had so much faith that God that his life did not belong to him anymore, and he knew that he would die so he let go of the will for life and 'gave his soul to god', thus when he was killed his soul went to hell. Yet once again he had faith in that he would rise on the third day, and his complete faith in this brought back his will to return and amazingly he did."

"So you're saying that complete faith that I will return will save me?"

"I suppose I could be saying that. But how much faith do you put on your own capacity for faith? Jesus knew he would return with ever fiber of his being, you could only hazard at the _likelihood_ of your return. Therefore you might be able to will yourself back, or you might not. Somehow we must find an alternate way of keeping you here without having you actually go to hell."

"Which hasn't been done."

"No."

"Well what if I killed myself first?"

"It's already been tried. The result was reincarnation ensued, and then after the thirty days were up the young child's soul was sucked into hell. The spell isn't attached to a body, it's attached to a soul."

"Alright, but what about those who go to that 'moving on' place? The place where you are now? Do they get sucked back?"

"Well that's the thing, it's never actually happened. So far those who have been affected have reincarnated. With the exception of Jesus."

"So you're saying that that might be a way."

"The only problem is, there are two ways to get here. One, you die. Or two you have finished all your lessons and you come here through 'ascension'. Those who have ascended, and there have been quite a few, have never been in your circumstance. They don't have a tracking device on their soul, therefore we don't know if you would stay put or not. And we also must remember that perhaps you haven't evolved enough, so killing you could be disastrous. You might reincarnate, and then as a baby nothing would help, you wouldn't know what to do at all."

"Well how close do you think I am to learning all the lessons?"

"Considering how you're a nasty wretch…"

"Yeah yeah, ok so not very evolved."

"Actually I was just trying to poke fun at you, for all we know you learnt all the 'good' lessons early. Meaning you're just going through a nasty phase, which everyone has to do eventually. **All **lessons must be learned. However it hardly ever happens that there's a backwards approach. Most people make their mistakes first. So we can conclude that you're far off."

"So, even though we might have found a viable way to save me… I'm not Harry Potter enough to use it."

"Harry Potter is an exceptional case. It was his mother's will that he live that kept him alive. Perhaps that's an avenue we could consider. Do you know of anyone willing to die for you?"

"Uhh… no. And wouldn't that defeat the purpose of my living? If someone has to die, especially someone who cares a lot about me, so that I can live, I'd rather just die."

"Yeah, but it's not like _they're_ going to go to hell. They'll reincarnate, or come here."

"You can take that attitude because you're already dead."

"That's true. I remember how I never wanted to die when I was alive, but truly it's not all that bad."

"Yeah the answer is no. Plus there's no one to die for me anyways."

"So you wouldn't sacrifice someone else's life for your own. Pretty basic lesson, but you've learned it so we're probably further along the lesson chain then we may have anticipated. Ok this plan could work."

"So how do I go about learning all these lessons?"

"Well true learning comes with experience. You have to experience all the lessons. And they can't be forced by yourself, they just have to come around. Which is inconvenient, but it's not like we can dictate how the universe works."

"So basically our plan is such that we can't form a plan or know if it's working or not?"

"Essentially yes. There will be signs, but they wont be conclusive."

"Such as?"

"You will seem to be a complete person."

"Complete."

"Yes."

"That's our only sign."

"…Yes."

"I just don't see how it's going to work. If we can't influence anything then it's all up to chance, and the chances are apparently extremely slim!" Draco threw his hands in the air.

"Well _you_ can't influence anything. What did you think I contacted you so that I can give you all this dire knowledge and then disappear? No, we've got our ways of helping out."

"We? As in you and me we? Or as in you and someone else we?"

"My friends and I."

"I see."

"In any case there is a long-term contingency plan. Basically we wait for the Universe to contract and then expand once again. Which could take a few billion years, but it'll happen eventually. And when that happens hell will be destroyed and the souls trapped there and in the reincarnation cycle will get another go with a new universe. So I mean if you _do_ go to hell, at least you'll have some hope."

"Yeah, hanging out in hell for several billion years. That sounds just peachy." Draco snarled through his teeth.

Prongs stood up and appeared to dust himself off before he said, "well at least it's not for all eternity."

Draco sighed. He supposed that Prongs was right. So if they failed it wouldn't be an everlasting disaster. Yay. "I guess this means I have to kick my drinking habit."

"Well who knows, knowing your overall chances maybe you _could_ stumble your way through your life lessons completely smashed." Prongs chuckled.

"That's encouraging. So no more drinking it is." Draco drawled.

"It's probably for the best."

"Now what?" Draco asked, not sure what came next since their plan involved no actual planning, and he was pretty sure they had covered the basics of the situation.

"Well, I mean I didn't really want to do this, but to be honest… it has to be done." Prongs said sadly.

"What? What has to be done?"

"See you in a few days Draco." Prongs then touched Draco's forehead and pushed hard blinding Draco with pain.

Screaming loudly Draco cursed Prongs before he passed out into a deep and painless sleep.

A/N: Hopefully that made some sense.


	5. Finding Draco

Hermione needed someplace to hide. She had only been back to school for three days and already she wanted to leave and never come back. Her choice to pretend like nothing had happened was backfiring. Unlike Hermione, Ron didn't do subtle. So everytime she came upon Ron and Harry, Ron would turn a deep red and refuse to look at her. She didn't know if he was angry, or embarrassed, but what she did know was that so far there had been no apology. No apology for the midnight molestation. And while she knew that she was responsible for part of it, it wasn't her hand down his pants, so she did expect an apology. Every day that had passed after the event where there had been no apology had only made Hermione feel angrier and dirtier. So much so that right now she couldn't bear to look at Ron, or to have Harry enquire if there was anything wrong. Nor could she bear to see Ginny's confused face questioning her speedy departure from the Burrow.

To be completely honest she'd rather see the likes of Draco Malfoy (who was suspiciously missing from school) then have to deal with her friends and Ron!

It was at this very thought that a door appeared on the wall beside her. Looking around she noticed the familiar tapestry and chuckled. She'd been pacing in front of the Room of Requirement. What a strange coincidence, she noted. And if she had been looking in a mirror and paying very close attention she might've noticed her eyes flicker to a vibrant shade of green before quickly disappearing. Looking around quickly and seeing no one she dashed to the door and quickly let herself inside.

It seemed to be an infirmary of some sort. Hermione hadn't required an infirmary so she didn't really know why one had turned up. In fact she had (alarmingly) been thinking about Malfoy at the time. Luckily the room couldn't just pull others from the universe and stick them in the room if she required them. If that _did_ work, she'd need to start requiring Jude Law more often.

Hermione sighed and looked around. There were four beds, one had a curtain around it, and the others were neatly made and had small bedside tables beside them. There were cupboards with what Hermione assumed were potions and bandages and such, and it had one of those muggle water dispensers with the big jugs. It seemed strangely out of place. But then so did the bed that was hidden by the curtain. It would only be that way if there were a patient in there.

Ah. There had to be someone who was here. That's why the room didn't change for her. As far as she knew the Room of Requirement became what the first person who entered it required. It didn't change upon the whim of the next person to arrive. So someone needed an infirmary? That was not good, perhaps she could convince them to go to Madame Pomfrey. On the other hand she didn't know many others who knew about the Room of Requirement, perhaps it was someone who had already graduated who was hiding from others. And maybe someone who was on the opposite side of the war. This could be bad, Hermione thought to herself. To be safe she should just leave, but she didn't think she could just leave, never knowing who was behind mystery curtain number one. Damn her curious nature!

Alright, just a peek. If they were awake they would've made some kind of noise by then. She strode quickly but quietly towards the curtain, halting at the entrance. Okay, ready in one, two, three! She briskly whisked the curtain silently to the side and poked her head around. In the bed was a boy with a crown of blonde hair so blonde it was almost white. He was tall, but lean, and even in his sleep he had an aristocratic air about him. That annoyed her. Even in his sleep Draco Malfoy looked like a snob. A gorgeous peaceful looking snob, but a snob nonetheless. Well at least his disappearance could now be explained. He'd been hanging out in a fake infirmary. However that meant that he had required one, which meant that he was unwell, which unfortunately meant that she had to do something to help him. Hermione sighed and pulled the curtain all the way back. Great. Just great.

Gathering her good will for all of God's creatures (even the icky ones), she wrapped it around her like a blanket. She wouldn't lose her cool when Malfoy became a complete asshole. She couldn't, her pride wouldn't let her. Which was why when she shook him softly and he woke up snarling and cursing she only slapped him a little bit. You know, to calm him down or something. When he turned to snarl and curse at her she calmly filled a glass of water and threw it in his face. Amusingly he just stared at her in shock. There, see? It was all solved with a dash of creativity, an ounce of dignity, and just a pinch of physical force. Oh and a glass of water.

Now.

"Why are you here? How do you know about this place?"

"What, the infirmary? I don't know Granger, maybe I looked at the school map or something. What are you doing here? Potter get a boo boo?" Malfoy smirked.

So he didn't know where he was, interesting.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Hermione asked, putting her hands on her hips and trying to look more intimidating. Intimidation often gets you answers. Malfoy did not look intimidated, actually he looked a bit worried.

"Listen Granger, this might sound crazy but… are we in a secret room that changes to suit the requirements of whoever enters?" He asked tentatively, as if he himself was not sure.

Hermione didn't really want to give that information away, but she couldn't see any other way to do it. He'd have to leave the room sometime, and that would mean he would see that he's not actually in the infirmary.

"Yes, this is the Room of Requirement. How do you know about this place?" Hermione asked, adding a glare. Maybe the glare would work.

"I followed Potter, who has cracked by the way, as he was talking to himself the last time I saw him." Malfoy said as he got out of the bed. He was wearing a rumpled sweater and a black pair of trousers. Not a school uniform like herself. And the last time anyone saw him was three days ago during the holidays. Had he been here all this time?

"Why were you following Harry?" Hermione asked, getting out her wand and waving it around threateningly. Malfoy just rolled his eyes.

"Obviously because he was walking around being all suspicious and talking to himself. Maybe he's got voices in his head that are trying to convince him to turn to the dark side," Malfoy chuckled to himself.

"I haven't really seen Harry all that –" Hermione was saying before Malfoy cut her off with a quick shout and then scrambled away from where he was standing, knocking Hermione to the ground. "What is wrong with you!?" She cried indignantly as she pushed him away from her.

"Did you hear that voice?" Draco asked her wide eyed and glancing around frantically. "Stop laughing!"

But Hermione wasn't laughing, she was staring quizzically at Draco's face, trying to figure out what was different about him lately. Other than he was cracked up insane. Blonde hair, pale skin, brown eyes, white teeth… wait, brown eyes? "Malfoy! Your eyes!" Hermione shouted, trying to get the boy's attention, but he was in his own mad little world, glaring off into the distance. "Weren't your eyes grey?" That got his attention.

"Yes. Let me guess they're…" Draco paused and looked upwards as if conferring with himself in his brain, "brown."

"Yes. Did you have something done with them?" Hermione asked. She didn't know why he would, she'd rather have grey eyes than boring brown ones.

Draco sighed and got to his feet. "The voices in my head made me do it."

"I thought Harry was the one who had voices in his head," Hemione smirked, also getting up off the ground.

Draco shrugged, "Perhaps he does. I for one do not want to waste the next…how long ago was the last day of holidays?"

"Three days ago."

"Ah, ok. I for one do not want to spend the next seventy-one days talking about Potter and the voices that he may or may not have in his head. I want to do something fun."

Seventy-one days? Whatever. "Go right ahead, Malfoy. The door is right there, I'm not stopping you."

"Oh no my petite peach, you are coming with me." Draco said, latching onto her arm.

"I most certainly am not!"

"You woke me up, which means that you now have to entertain me. I was having the most pleasant dream after all. It's a shame I woke up at all. You owe me."

"I do not _owe_ you anything! And I'm not going to entertain you! You don't even _like_ me!" Hermione shouted, freeing herself from Draco's grasp and storming for the door.

"I don't even know you. How can I know if I like you or not?" Draco asked, quickly jumping in front of her and stopping her departure.

"We've been in the same school for five years! Of course you know me!"

"Do I know your favourite colour?"

"What?"

"Let me guess… red?"

"Blue," Hermione sneered.

"See, so I don't know you at all."

"Fine you don't _know_ me, but you do hate me!" Hermione glared at him as if daring him to contradict her.

"Well I never hated _you_, just mudbloods and muggles." Draco said in a tone that suggested that this meant that he hadn't ever hated her at all, and how could she think that?

"Well newsflash _Malfoy_, I AM a 'mudblood'."

"_Newsflash_ Granger, I am well aware of your origins. But I've decided, and this is only recently by the way, that I do not hate muggles or mudbloods. And that my hatred was only a product of my environment and it was all very silly anyways." Draco said, examining his nails.

"You can't just change your mind!" Hermione threw her hands in the air. He was infuriating her!

"I can and did. Okay, how about this, we'll say that the little annoying voices in my head told me that it would be better for me to stop hating mudbloods and muggles, I would lead a more enriching life."

Hermione just glowered at him.

"So are you coming?" He asked, turning away and starting towards the door. Hermione couldn't believe this, he can't just do this! Obviously she had to follow him to knock some sense into him and turn him back to the Malfoy everybody knew and hated. This was intolerable.

She started storming after him.

"Oh, so you are coming. Good, lets go to your room," Draco smiled at her and threw his arm around her shoulders.

Hermione smiled back and then punched him in the face.

"I wonder if Jesus ever got punched in the face," was his only reply after he recovered, wincing as he touched the bruise that was going to start showing soon. He conferred with himself silently for a few seconds, and then laughed aloud. Shrugging at her he put his arm back around her shoulders and started leading them towards the Gryffindor tower.

Hermione sighed and gave in. It was better than hanging around with her friends right now. And maybe she'd get to punch him in the face again.

She sure hoped so.

--- --- -- - - -------

A/N Well there's that. So, tell me if you want longer chapters, or faster updates, because I could go either way. Also, if you're going to protest Draco's abrupt change of opinion concerning those of mixed parentage, then don't worry. It takes more time than one split second to change someone's mind like that, but at least he's trying, eh? We'll see more on his point of view later.


	6. Finding Befuddlement

The problem with having a disembodied voice in your head is that it was always trying to tell you what to do. Even when you're trying to concentrate on something else. Unlike your own internal voices you can't even attempt to drown it out.

"_A crying shame,_" Luce drawled amusedly. Harry gritted his teeth and ignored him. He_ had_ to listen to Professor Snape, otherwise he was going to look like a fool for what was possibly the zillionth time in class. No matter how he tried to laugh off Snape's jabs, they did begin to hurt after a while. And the shame of being made a fool every. single. class. was very _very_ trying.

"_Come on, just once!_" Luce pleaded.

'I am not going to ask Snape what shampoo he uses! It's an old and stupid joke, and he would crucify me for asking!' Harry fumed towards the voice in his head, however you do that.

Unfortunately this small diversion was enough for Snape to notice he wasn't listening one hundred percent, because a second later Harry felt Ron step on his toe to signal that Snape was boring down on him.

"_Uh ohhhh, should've paid attention!_" Luce sniggered.

"Potter! Name the fourteen stages of the Malum potion." Snape sneered towards him.

"Uhh they're.. uhhh…" Harry stammered.

"Not paying attention have we? Tell me Potter, is this some sort of ploy to garner up even _more_ attention to meet your ego's gluttonous appetite? Are you a child, looking for attention by acting up, or maybe you really are just an idiot." Snape smirked at him while the Slytherins snickered behind their hands.

"_It's a trick,_" Luce yawned inside his head, "_There are only three stages to the Malum potion, and he didn't cover it in class, there's a footnote in that obscure potions book you were reading the other night when we were trying to research this whole head business. Just trust me._"

"Sir, there are only three stages to the Malum potion." Harry said, looking calm even though his insides were quaking. He would not be made a fool of again. Unless Luce was trying to pull one over on him. Luce's response was to make his head fuzz uncomfortably.

Snape eyes narrowed dangerously. "And what are they, pray tell Mr. Potter?"

"They are.."

"_aetus flamma, aetus impedo, and aetus memoria,_" Luce listed off as Harry said the terms aloud.

"And why do you know the three stages of such a gravely illegal potion, hmm?" Snape raised an eyebrow.

"_Wow, he is determined to get one up on you,_" Luce said, slightly awed at Snape's perseverance.

'Tell me about it,' Harry grimaced on the inside, but managed to keep his face calm. Harry said the only thing that came to mind which was, "would you rather I didn't know, sir?"

"Well at least you know something," Snape sneered and then barked out orders for their next potion.

Harry sighed heavily. 'I guess I owe you thanks Luce.'

"_Meh. I have a good memory, and you read slow._"

Soon the potions class was over and Harry packed his things away and joined Ron out in the hall. It had been a grueling class and he was glad to get out of it. It was hard enough understanding potions without the evil professor, and annoying head-mate. Luce made his head fuzz uncomfortably again. Harry snarled audibly.

"You alright Harry?" Neville asked, approaching Harry and Ron in the hall.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just have a nasty annoying stupid headache." Harry snarled and held his head. Luce was amusing himself by pretending to play the drums in Harry's head. Each beat was a buzz, or pop in different areas in his head.

"Hmm sorry bout that mate, you could go see Madame Pomfrey," Ron said while scanning the hallway.

"Are you looking for Hermione, Ron?" Neville said, also scanning the hallway. Ron nodded, his face turning a bit red.

"Wait, where's Hermione?" Harry asked. He hadn't even noticed she was missing. He was just so distracted all the time now. Plus she had been avoiding them lately for some reason.

"_It's that Weasley boy who's driving her away._" Luce said, stopping his drumming.

'Why would it be Ron's fault?' Harry thought to Luce.

"_Oh please, don't tell me you haven't noticed. Everytime they're around each other Ron goes red and wont even look at her, and Hermione slowly gets more and more uncomfortable until she bolts. They don't even talk to each other._"

'What? You're kidding! I haven't noticed that at all!' Now Harry was alarmed, he hadn't noticed any of that except for he had noticed that Hermione was a bit uncomfortable around them, but he just assumed it had something to do with… well he didn't know what he thought, but the girl had license to feel whatever she wants right? Gah. He really needed to get Luce out of his head before he lost track of everything.

"_Hey, I've been helping you out! You're naturally forgetful and dim, so don't be blaming it all on me._" Luce said disdainfully.

"I most certainly am _not_ dim and forgetful!" Harry growled aloud.

"Er, Harry?" Harry turned to see Ron and Neville looking at him like he belonged in the loony-bin. Harry promptly turned a bright shade of red before he tried to stammer out an explanation, but Luce was laughing and playing the drums in his head again and he couldn't think past all of the noise.

"Argh!" Was all he said before he turned and stormed off down the hall towards Dumbledore's office. He needed Luce out of his head _now_. Luce was even more annoying than his son Draco, and that was saying a lot. Although maybe that's because Draco doesn't have prime seating in his skull. Nor does Draco have any skill with the drums.

"_Speak of the devil. There goes my son now._" Luce drawled. He wasn't very interested in his son right now since he had no recollection of him since he entered Harry's head.

Harry looked up and gaped. There was Draco Malfoy walking through the hall with his arm around Hermione. And Harry wasn't the only one staring. Everyone they breezed past had stopped to gape at them as well. No one had seen a sight such as this. Gryffindors and Slytherins don't just go around arm in arm, _especially_ Draco Malfoy and any of the golden trio.

Malfoy was speaking animatedly to Hermione whose face was alternating between embarrassment, amusement, and fury. Malfoy was pointedly ignoring everyone in the hall and they marched by without either of them noticing Harry. Harry watched as they turned up towards the Gryffindor common room, and it was a few seconds before he shook himself out of his stupor and raced up behind them quietly so they wouldn't hear him approaching from behind.

"… so there I was, creeping up behind Weasel and Potty, getting ready to unleash a torrent of angry spiders (well about thirty or so) upon their heads when I heard voices around the corner behind me. Obviously I ducked away and hid, but I wasn't as graceful way back then and I accidentally dropped the box of spiders on the ground. So my plan was foiled. Then Potty and Weasel did something very strange, but that's not really part of the story…"

"What did they do?" Hermione asked, her voice interested.

"Well they pointed at the spiders, who were crawling out of the school through the window, and started talking about following them. I wasn't really interested in all of that, so I just left."

"Wow Malfoy, unbeknownst to you, you actually saved Ginny Weasley, and prevented the Dark Lord from rising during second year!"

"Oh. Well I meant to do all of that obviously." Malfoy said snottily.

Hermione snorted and punched Malfoy's shoulder. "You also almost killed Harry and Ron who ventured out into the forbidden forest following the spiders and were almost eaten."

"Casualties of war," Malfoy shrugged elegantly before turning and grinning at Hermione cheekily.

"Brat," Hermione replied, poking him in the side.

"_Hmm, my son is flirting with your best friend. Didn't you say they were enemies?_" Luce enquired.

'They are enemies! Or at least they were! And they were not flirting!' Harry said alarmed.

"_Seemed like flirting to me..._" Luce said amusedly before he returned to his drumming.

Harry continued to follow them until they reached the common room where Hermione cast a spell on Malfoy so he wouldn't hear the password before leading them both inside.

Damn. Harry couldn't follow them inside without giving away that he had been following them the whole time. He sighed heavily. What is going on? Everything is so strange. His friends were acting weird, Malfoy was flirting with Hermione, and wasn't he supposed to be in trouble? He didn't look very troubled. The world is going crazy! And it all started with _Luce_.

Harry growled deeply and then took off towards Dumbledore's office again. Once Luce was gone then everything could go back to normal. Or at least that's what he was trying to convince himself.

A/N: Short, but I feel like I need to send this part off before I get to the next part. It'll (hopefully) get more interesting soon!


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